noticing joy on the surface of simple things … the evidence of holiness happening in the daily grind.

My grandfather Ed Rozeboom passed away recently. When my children were little we started calling him Grandpa Rosie because Rozeboom was a mouthful for toddlers. He lived long and finished well, going where he longed to be – to the place where he is no longer an alien, but a citizen. The Promised Land.

There was a funeral, with all the expected people, places, and casseroles. The purpose of closure was accomplished. But now there is the afterward. Remembering.

I like this part. Because the end of his life was recent I think of my Grandpa as well as my Grandma often. Here’s what keeps joyfully rising to the surface of these thoughts: food! Bringing lunch out to Grandpa on the tractor. Grandmas deep freeze in the sun room full of frozen candy from the previous holiday. The cellar in the basement where we put leftovers after big family meals. Learning to make Grandma’s pie crust that she had no recipe for. Camping & rolling coffee cans with Grandpa to make home-made ice cream. Summer and sandwiches with Velveeta; Grandmas thick sliced garden tomatoes. Peanut butter with butter on top of Grandpas toast. More peanut butter and butter and sweet pickle sandwiches on Wonder Bread – Grandpas favorite. Grandmas cookies and bars and candy jars. And pizza. Grandpa always brought us pizza.

After the funeral, our family left Iowa and headed for Colorado making a stop at The Pizza Ranch for dinner. Not because it’s the greatest pizza we’ve ever had, but because it reminds us of this man we loved.

I find myself thankful when I think of my Grandparents Rosie. Remembering is healing. And I am most delighted to find that food is the memory holder. Given that, I am sure I will never forget them.

Like this:

It’s good of you to visit! Glad to have you find Crema! If we were face to face I would serve you a drink and something yummy with it, but sharing words together will have to suffice.

Seems weird and wild to welcome you to a space in some ‘space’ that I don’t fully understand, but am willing and eager to uncover the treasures of. It is a space for words, for wit, wisdom, and recipes. A space for sharing.

This place will work just fine if I am simply writing and have a place to put what I am writing. It will be better than fine if there is and exchange of ideas, insights, ponderings, elation.